Wei Xiang closes his fist, holding the ring in the heat of his tightening palm, and brings it up to his face. Ai Ling—her name surfaces like a faraway dream, half-forgotten. He says it again and again, and each repetition of the name brings a certain, fearful finality to it.
Then Wei Xiang feels the light pressure of the boy’s body against his side, drawing him back to the present, to the breakwater where he is now. A growing despair is eating its way out of him, and all Wei Xiang can feel is the abysmal sense of coming apart, endlessly.
From somewhere around him, Wei Xiang hears the lilt of a song. It takes him some moments before registering the fact that the boy is singing. He sings for a long time without a break or an end; the song resounds in Wei Xiang’s ears, sinking into him, penetrating him. He finally comes apart, in the middle of it.
Even after the heat of the day has drained away, with the sea breeze blowing over them, leaving behind a speckling of salt on their skins, the song goes on uninterrupted, suspending Wei Xiang in a soft, protective spell.
24
CODY
Ai Ling had wanted to get away for the long weekend after their final-year examinations, back in 1991, before she and Cody started looking for full-time jobs. She had saved up for a short trip over the semester, working the evening shift as an assistant in a dental clinic while studying for her finals. She wanted Cody to accompany her—she had just broken up with Ian, and needed to get away for a while—so he agreed. She brought up Bangkok as the destination, since it was within her budget and he could not come up with a better place. They quickly settled on the travel dates, and Ai Ling started looking for accommodation and cheap air tickets.
Cody had known her for three years by that point, ever since hitting it off during orientation camp in the first week at university. She was a Social Sciences major, while he was doing English Literature. They got along so well that many of their university friends assumed they were a couple—Ai Ling rarely mentioned Ian even then—and for a while they did not discredit the assumption. Sometimes in lighter moods, Ai Ling and Cody would laugh about it, turning the whole thing into a joke. Ai Ling revealed very little of how she actually felt about him, and they left things platonic, casual and undemanding.
Because they spent so much time together in school, studying at the library during breaks and meeting for lunch, Cody never felt the need to build a friendship with another woman. With Ai Ling around all the time, he had gained a certain social legitimacy that was helpful, even useful, to navigate through university life. He was grateful for the security that came with it. Even at that age, he was still not ready to reveal his other covert self.
They decided to fly out on a Thursday afternoon and come back on Sunday night; the hotel Ai Ling booked was in Silom, in the heart of downtown Bangkok. Because it was her first time taking an overseas trip without her parents, she had to lie and tell them she was going with two female classmates.
“No way was I telling them I’m going with you, they would have killed me,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Well, I’m their good daughter,” she replied, “and I don’t want them to worry too much about me.”
The budget hotel was located on Sala Daeng, a two-lane road that branched off the main thoroughfare of Silom, and when they checked in, Ai Ling asked for a room with two beds; because it was an off-peak season, they were given a room on the fifth floor, facing the road and towering office blocks. Because Cody had been to Bangkok once when he was nineteen, just before entering the army to serve his two and a half years of compulsory National Service, Ai Ling asked him to plan the itinerary; he used the most current Lonely Planet guidebook he could find at the library, which featured the usual tourist spots: Chatuchak weekend market, Wat Arun, Patpong.
Since it was still too early for dinner after checking in, they decided to check out the shops along Silom. Ai Ling was in a good mood, keeping up the chatter as they walked along, peeking into shop windows, restaurants, convenience stores, and catching fragments of music and conversation drifting from staticky radios and dusty televisions. At six-thirty, the street became thronged with office workers, street hawkers, beggars and tourists of all stripes, and they stayed close to avoid losing each other. Standing outside one of the massage parlours where the masseuses sat on plastic chairs and talked gregariously, Ai Ling read the massage options available. The masseuses studied Ai Ling with mild curiosity before turning a more direct, practiced look at Cody. Ai Ling asked whether they should give it a try and he shrugged. “Up to you,” he said.
“Then let’s do it,” she said, and approached the counter to book a session for both of them. Without asking, she requested for a male masseur for Cody while she opted for a female masseuse. “No hanky panky,” she said, giving him a wink. He smiled and shook his head.
They were both led into a large, dimly lit back room with several mattresses on the floor; each massage area was separated by thick curtains hanging on rods suspended from the ceiling. Through the curtain, Cody could hear Ai Ling change into the proffered loose shirt and wraparound knee-length shorts. The masseurs arrived shortly, bowing and muttering a soft greeting. Cody kept his eyes closed throughout the massage, unable to relax. When the masseur’s hands moved from Cody’s feet to his inner thighs, his mind slipped naturally to sex, and thoughts of Terry.
At that point, Cody had known Terry for three months, but nobody else knew of his existence, not even his close friends. They had met at a party at Rascals, a disco located on the ground floor of the Pan Pacific Hotel, exchanged numbers, and Terry had suggested they meet up for drinks shortly after. Despite his initial apprehension, Cody agreed to it. Terry, as it turned out, was more or less the person he was the night they met: frank, affable, candid. Like Cody, he was a student in his second year at a different university, studying electrical engineering. Unlike Cody, he was more outgoing and sporty, a tennis and rock-climbing enthusiast, and even though he was a year younger, he had already had past relationships with much older men. Mostly he talked during the first date and Cody listened. After that, they met up more regularly, sometimes three times a week, and usually at cafés or restaurants of Cody’s choice. Terry was happy to oblige.
On their third date, Cody suggested a fast-food restaurant in the housing estate where Terry lived with his parents and elder brother. After dinner, Cody asked to visit his place. Since his parents were at home that evening, Terry ushered Cody straight into his bedroom. Barely had he closed the door before they were all over each other. Terry kissed Cody hard and asked whether this was something he wanted, and if he was comfortable with it. The words tripped over one another as Cody uttered them in a thick, hoarse drawclass="underline" Yes, yes, yes. Terry undressed him and guided him to the bed, and showed him what needed to be done. Against his body, Cody felt out of place, dislodged from his own physicality, displaced and removed at a distance even while he was fully in the moment, drinking in every touch and sensation as if it were the first and last pleasure that he would ever experience. He was hungry and voracious and achingly open. When it was over, Cody collapsed onto Terry and began to cry; Terry held Cody and cooed as if mollifying an injured child. From then on, they would end all their dates at Terry’s place, having sex at every opportunity. Cody felt constantly ravenous and restless, always fidgeting and frustrated as if making up for what had been hitherto denied to him.